


No. Stay.

by FormulaFerrari



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1839112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormulaFerrari/pseuds/FormulaFerrari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="flashback">You suppose you should have been expecting the knock tonight. You look over at the door for a moment, just waiting, wondering what would happen if you left it. But he knocks again and every atom of your being needs to let him in. You throw the duvet off you and cross the room; it is not like you were asleep anyway.</span>
</p><p>*Set Germany 2010*</p>
            </blockquote>





	No. Stay.

**Author's Note:**

> I blame YouTube:
> 
> Inspired by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVoLbUyI0YE
> 
> Influenced by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bZjljwkUPA   
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHTx60aifhw
> 
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“So Fernando, where does this win go in your career? Is it up there with Singapore 2008?”

The journalist is being sarcastic and you know Fernando knows this. You watch him as he leans forwards, the small smirk on his face.

“Is a, errh, very strong result for Ferrari today.”

You know this is reserved Fernando. It is a front. A protection. You do not know how to take him. You do not know how to respond.

“Eddie Jordan has just said you two should be kicked out of the race.”

You heard Felipe’s scoff of what you can only assume is agreement. But you have only got eyes for Fernando, watching the way he shrugs. The way none of this seems to faze him.

“Again, if this is the final thought of the weekend for you then, I think, this is because you didn’t see the performance of our team and the performance of our car… This weekend.”

He is so nonchalant and it itches under your skin. You are not sure you like him like this. He seems to not care about what he has done. Or, what he has supposedly done. You are not so sure anymore.

“Fernando, what do you say to the people who believe that this is a dirty win, and if you win the Championship a dirty Championship?”

You wrinkle your nose at that comment. It is not right. It is not-

He smirked.

_Smirked._

“Well,” Is he laughing? “I have nineteen races in a season… If you look at all the points through all of the races… Sometimes we win a lot of points… Sometimes we loose these points…”

You sort of get his point. Yes, the championship will probably come down to more than just this race, and yes, knowing how close the championship is, this race probably will not matter in the long run. But his point is incoherent. It is almost like he is distracted, caught up in his own thoughts. You frown at him but there is no opportunity to talk to him now. It will all have to wait.

“Do you feel that some people are worried because you are back on the Championship?”

Fernando just shrugs again, scratching the back of his neck absent-mindedly. You think that maybe he should be reacting to these questions a little more. Right now he is coming off quite obnoxious.

“Maybe it seems like this.”

He is smiling again. You blow out a breath because, really, someone is about to snap.

“So the reality is, Fernando, that you couldn’t beat him on track so you had to get the team to do it for you.”

Your head snaps to Fernando and there is no smile on his soft face. You can see the fury. See it resting in his locked jaw. The slow blink of his eyes as he works out how he can answer this calmly. You see his shoulders subtly drop, exhaling a breath.

“That’s your opinion.”

His speech is calm but the anger is clear to anyone listening to him. With his posture lent forwards you can see his clenched fists. You sit forwards also, resting a soft hand on his knee, reminding him he is not in this alone. He does not react to your touch. He simply blinks at the journalists, waiting for the next question.

“I’m asking if that’s your opinion.”

He barely gives you chance to look at him before he is answering.

“No.”

You watch him closely; glad that you can see the real emotion in him. Not the cocky smug dickhead that was sitting beside you moments ago. He is angry, riled that someone has told him he is not good. Riled that someone believes he needs the team to do everything for him. You know that is not the case and so does he, even Felipe and probably even the journalist. But the journalist is mad and you can hear it in his voice. It is clipped. The viewers feel they were cheated out of the fight. Fernando sits back, sliding your hand off his leg. To everyone else there was no way they would see this movement but it hurts you. You fold your hands into your lap.

“But he _had_ to give you this win today, right, Fernando?”

Daggers. That is all you can see in his eyes. And you know you would not want to be on the end of that gaze but the journalist is matching him, challenging him. You swallow feeling slightly nervous; you know how much Fernando could explode if he lets himself. Glancing Felipe’s way you hope for some kind of relief from the tension but Felipe just looks pissed off and bored. You eyes fall on Fernando again as he leans forwards.

“No.”

It is sharp, punctures through the air. Barely said into the microphone before he is leaning back in his chair. You can see Felipe fidgeting uncomfortably. Anyone could see he is uncomfortable. He obviously does not agree with Fernando. You swallow uncomfortably. The air becomes thick with tension.

A spur of the moment thought has you leaning forwards for Fernando’s microphone, even if it is just to make the Spaniard smile.

“Can I go?” You grin as the room trickles into laughter. You here his soft laugh behind you, his hand clasping on your shoulder. And you do not know whether it is in appreciation or possession or even if it is both. “You know, to grab a shower, or…” You let the joke fade away as the room continues to laugh. You look to that journalist as you sit back.

“Go, Sebastian.” He smiles. You force the smile to stay on your lips as you sit back in your chair. “Can you give us your opinion, Sebastian?” You see the smile flicker on Fernando’s face beside you and you just continue to laugh. No. No your opinion will not be given. Fernando leans forwards again, smile still on his face as he pulls the microphone back to him. You see your press officer waving you off. You blink at her; she is allowing you to go. You are allowed to leave.

“Well, hopefully the next question is for Sebastian.” Fernando smiles. “No. Stay, stay.” Fernando grabs your wrist as you get to your feet and you comply, falling back into your chair. And everyone might still be laughing but you here the desperation in his voice. You know that he needs you here beside him. He needs to know you have got his back. It warms you slightly as you reach for you water bottle, taking a swing before you sit forwards, placing your hand back on his knee. And as the rest of the conference goes on he does not remove it. He lets you keep contact with him.

His fingers linking with yours whilst Felipe talks.

\- - - -

You suppose you should have been expecting the knock tonight. You look over at the door for a moment, just waiting, wondering what would happen if you left it. But he knocks again and every atom of your being needs to let him in. You throw the duvet off you and cross the room; it is not like you were asleep anyway. You mentally psych yourself up for opening the door which, by now, you probably should not have to do. Fernando stumbles passed you, smacking against the wall opposite the door. You frown at him, moving beside him, but you can smell it on him before you have even got a hand on his cheek. Closing the door has only intensified the smell.

“Ow.” He states, looking at the wall. You frown over at him.

“Are you alright?”

“I won.” He shrugs looking down at his feet. You nod slowly.

“Yeah…?”

“So I celebrate.”

“Ferrari were celebrating?”

“Yes. We get one-two so we celebrate. Like in Bahrain.” You can hear his words slurring together and he is gripping tightly to the wall beside him. You hate seeing him like this.

“It’s half four in the morning.”

“Mark helps me continue celebrations.” Fernando sighs looking over at you with sorrow-filled eyes. And he looks so dreadfully broken. You move towards him.

“Did you have fun?” You think you manage to push the jealousy from your voice. Fernando chose you. He could have picked Mark but he chose you. You have to keep reminding yourself of that sometimes. Like now. Mark found Jenson _after_ Fernando rejected him. Rejected him because Fernando chose you.

They do say opposites attract.

“No…” Fernando drops his head grabbing a handful of your shirt and pulling you close. You wish he smelt like him: the mix of the racetrack, heat and petrol. Not like a mini bar. “Felipe is pissed at me.”

“I’m not overly surprised.” You mutter, brushing your hand across his cheek. You love being slightly taller than him; it allows you to cradle him better, pull him close to your body. And it also allows for you to be able to tilt his chin up slightly so he looks up at you.

“Do not mean for this to happen. Did not ask team to move him.”

“I know, Fernando.”

“Yes, was complaining he was too slow but could have passed. Was just panicking you were getting closer…” Fernando deflates in your arms and you pull him close. He needs this. He needs to regret in private so in public he can forget all of this. You hold him close to your body, waiting until your breathing matches.

“Lets freshen up, yeah? Are you staying?”

“Mmm…” Fernando pulls you closer and you do not think you have ever seen him this ruined. It does not make sense. He won today. He should be ecstatic, rubbing it in your face. Teasing you just like you always did when it was the other way around. He lets you move him into the bathroom and undress him slowly. As you remove his shirt you fingers find that bruise-like mark on the base of his neck. That mark you know belongs to someone else. The mark that reminds you why you are on edge that Fernando went out with the Australian today. It had been the European Grand Prix, two races ago. Mark was pissed at you for winning when he had not even finished. Fernando, you guess, was waiting for you in the energy station since you could not find him anywhere around Ferrari. You had gone up the stairs, heading to your cool down room for a shower when Mark came out of your door.

_“Mark?” You almost laugh because it is so odd to see your teammate coming out of your room. He just smirks at you, looking proud of himself. The small smile on your face slides into a frown._

_“Seb.” He nods, crossing the hall. But you grab his elbow because you do not understand._

_“What were you doing in my room?”_

_“The question really should be ‘who’.” Mark smirks. Your eyes widen as he zips up his flies for effect. And you really do not know. You really do not know what you should be thinking. There is a hot rage under your skin that does not belong with standing on the top step of the podium, but he is walking away. And laughing._

_Laughing._

_He is mocking you and you find yourself torn between wanting to follow him and force him to explain or confront what he has left in your room. No, not what: who._

_Your hands are sweaty when you reach for the door handle of your room. You can feel Mark staring at you, watching you. Turning over your shoulder you see him laugh again before disappearing into his identical room across the hall. And you do not want to go inside because you are already hurting. But he would not do that to you, would he? Fernando would not hurt you like that, right? Because you love each other. Track battles stay on the track and off it you laugh about the rivalry everyone thinks you have. How they have read your relationship so wrong._

_When you walk in he is sitting on your massage bed, hands pressed into the material by his knees and his head dropped. He is still in his race suit, haphazardly tied around his waist. You do not know what to think. You have frozen at the flinch in his shoulders as you closed the door. You want to cross to him but you need to understand. You need to know why he looks so dejected._

_“Fernando?” You try softly, your feet making no intentions to move closer to him._

_“Please…” He mutters, voice just above a whisper. But he is looking at you with such desperate eyes. Before you even realise you have moved you are falling into the seat next to him, wrapping him in close to you. He is gripping to the back of your shirt, lips kissing softly at your neck. And it is like he is guilty. And it makes you push him away. “Seb-”_

_“-Were you just in here with Mark?” You ask in a cold voice. Fernando pulls you closer, resting his head on your chest. Your hands are carding through his hair as you feel the first tears sink into your shirt._

_“Yes.” He breathes. Bricks fall into your stomach. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath._

_“Why was he here?”_

_“Wanted to find me.” Fernando is snuggling into your hold, desperately trying to pull you closer._

_“Why?”_

_“I say no.” Fernando assures, looking up at you. You cup his cheek._

_“To?”_

_“He comes in here for revenge on you I think. Tell him to stop and he does.”_

_“Then why are you guilty?” You ask gently._

_“Because…” Fernando drops his head. He cannot even look at you and it worries you. You cup his cheek but he drops his eyes instead. “I did not mean… I mean, just got caught up… He was angry…”_

_“What happened, Fernando?”_

_“I was not thinking. Just… Just trying to help him but I-”_

_“-Did he hurt you?” Your blood runs cold. Right now you do not understand anything. Fernando’s eyes are pooling with tears when he looks back up at you._

_“No. Not at all.” Fernando shakes his head and pulls you closer. You feel slightly reluctant, slightly confused. He can sense that on you. His grip on you tightens. “He just…”_

_“You’re going to need to explain because I am very confused, Fernando.” You say softly after a few moments of silence, still frowning at him. Still confused. He drops his head._

_“He kissed me.” Fernando whispers. You blink slowly because you definitely cannot have heard him right. Fernando looks up at you slowly, tears still threatening at the edge of his eyes._

_“You let him?” You ask. Fernando’s hand cups his neck as he looks down, nodding._

_“Did not mean-”_

_“-So you just let him come in here and kiss you?” You are angry, and you know Fernando knows this. His hand screwed in your shirt tightens; he is still trying to pull you closer._

_“No, Seb, no.” He is shaking his head but everything is becoming a blur to you. He has still got one hand on his neck. “Was not like this. He came in a started talking, needing to vent.”_

_“And he couldn’t have gone to Jenson? He_ had _to come to you?” You spit through gritted teeth. Fernando swallows uncomfortably._

_“Are still friends, Seb. We still talk.”_

_“But he just had to come and vent to you? Had to come and find_ you _?”_

_“Do not know. But he came in and started talking. Did not get a chance. And then I…” Fernando takes a deep breath but you find you are barely listening to him; your eyes have focused on the hand still on his neck. “I just tried to comforted him, told him there are still lots more races. Are only at the European race and is a shame he does not finish but are still more races. And then… Just happened. By time I realise what is happening I tell him to stop. He says I always know how to make him feel better but I tell him I have you. Because I want you.” He surveys your eyes. “Then he leaves.”_

_“What are you hiding?” You mutter, a new kind of anger flushing through your body. Fernando’s eyes widen._

_“Hiding? Am not-”_

_“-Don’t lie.” You inject. His eyes widen in fear and he swallows uncomfortably. You take hold of his wrist._

_“Sebastian-”_

_“-Are you going to show me or do I have to find out for myself?” You bite, your voice a low rumble. The first tear splashes down his cheek but you need to know. You need to know what he is hiding. Slowly, and with little encouragement Fernando moves his hand and you pull the edge of his shirt down slightly to see it: the angry red mark that has been sucked into his skin. You can feel his eyes on you as you gently brush your fingers over it._

_“Am sorry.” Fernando breathes, more tears running from his eyes. You cannot take your eyes off that mark. That mark you know was not left by you. It is there to unnerve you, to set doubt in your mind, to rock the boat about what you mean to Fernando. It is so strategic you cannot help but feel like they both planned it together._

_“Is there…” Your resolve has gone and you are just trying to hold onto yourself enough to finish this sentence. “Is there anything else?”_

_“No. Just this. When I feel-” Fernando stops himself at you disgusted expression. “As soon as I know what he was doing I tell him to stop.”_

_“And he did?”_

_“Yes.” Fernando catches the tear you did not realise was rolling down your face. “Because he knows what you mean to me.” It hurts more because you feel like they are playing you like a kid. You are not that naïve. You understand how the world works. You understand that Fernando has known Mark for a lot longer than you have known Fernando and so, with the Spaniard choosing you, you know it must have irked Mark. Being favoured again like he claims the team does with you. Maybe that is why he is so vengeful after Turkey. But he still got on the podium. You are the one who lost out._

After your shower Fernando curls into your arms, swamping you both with the duvet. You love how you can feel the heat passing from his skin to yours. Love how quickly your little bed-cove warms up. Your fingers trace over that mark before you press your lips there. And you feel Fernando shudder. And maybe he is uncomfortable with the way you touch that point, that faded symbol of his mistake but you like to do it. Remind him that whatever he does you still want him to be yours. That you still need him. Your eyes connect with his as his hands curl into your hair and you are lying on top of him. He sighs contently.

“Mark says you would not understand.” Fernando breathes, smiling gently. You frown at him a little.

“Hey?”

“Will not understand why I feel bad.” You look at Fernando for a moment, trying to work out what he means. “But I know you do.” His hands slid down your sides and he is pulling you on top of him. You let your weight fall on him, loving how he gently presses his lips to your forehead. “Is the game we play, but we are still humans, still have morals.”

“It would do him well to remember that.” You mutter, pressing your ear to Fernando’s heartbeat. Fernando rubs gently at your back.

“Am not going anywhere, Seb.” Fernando smiles. You kiss his skin.

“I know.”

“Wish you would stop worrying about this.” Subconsciously, your fingers draw over the mark on his neck. He presses your fingers to it, holding them still. “Please stop this.” He whispers. You look up to see unexpected tears in his eyes. You catch his cheek.

“Hey…” You try softly, but he is shaking his head, pulling you closer.

“Am sorry I let this happen but do not want him, Sebastian. Want you. _Need_ you.” Fernando mutters into your hair. You grasp at his shirt. “Is my friend. Nothing more.”

“I know.”

“And you trust me?”

“Of course, Nano.”

“Then stop this. Please.” Fernando implores. You find yourself nodding with no real conviction. How can you let this go when Mark seems to be with Fernando every time you are not?

“Is a bitter win today.” Fernando says a little while later. You look round at him, running your fingers across his hip as he pulls your back closer to his chest.

“No win is bitter.”

“People compare this to Singapore 2008. What does this say they think of my win?”

“I didn’t think you let people’s opinions bother you.”

“People are claiming I cheat.”

“Fernando, this was the teams call, not yours. You didn’t ask them to move him. They made that decision themselves.”

“Not how the world sees it.”

“Fernando,” You turn to face him, taking his face in your hands. He will not look at you. The expression of shame giving away all too clearly how he is feeling. “The team makes the decisions they do for themselves, yeah? You look at last race in Silverstone when they gave me Mark’s wing. I didn’t ask them to but they did. And suddenly it’s my fault that he didn’t get the new front wing? It’s the way people want to see it. They want to blame you because they can point their finger at you. Really it was the teams decision.”

“But you do not already have black marks against your name. People are calling this a ‘Typical Alonso’” Fernando sighs burying his face in your shoulder. “Do not want that trade mark.”

“You don’t have that trademark.” You try softly but he is having none of it.

“First 2007, then 2008, now this? People are seeing this as my normal behaviour. They do not see how good I am in the car anymore.”

“Yes they do. Of course they do. If they didn’t do you really think Ferrari would have approached you last year?” You say. Fernando just shrugs. “You can’t let jerks like Eddie Jordan and that wanker from the press conference tell you any different. Fernando, you stopped Michael’s World Champion run. You are a Two-Time World Champion, possibly three this year-”

“-Unless you have anything to say about it.” Fernando smiles and you feel relieved to see the Fernando you know and love slowly returning.

“You are one of the best, Nano. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not.”

“Really think this?” Fernando says in a small voice and you see an insecure side to him you have never seen before. You nod, pressing your lips briefly to his.

“Promise.”

“So…” Fernando rolls on top of you and you raise an eyebrow at him. He sweetly kisses down your neck, being extremely coy. “Am better than Michael?”

“I never said that.” You smirk as Fernando rests his chin on your chest, looking up at you with adorable big eyes.

“Think you did.”

“Nope. Definitely not me.”

“‘You stopped Michael’s World Champion run… Are one of the best, Fernando.’” Fernando mimics in a terrible German accent that has you laughing at him, pulling him back up your body.

“My impression of you is much better.”

“Well, this is something I have not heard.” Fernando smiles. You curl your fingers into his hair.

“You win today, Fernando.” He sighs and that smile slips off his face. “Don’t feel bad.”

“Cannot… Feel like I have cheated him.”

“Was not your decision.” You plead. He just runs his hands down your sides in a soothing manner.

“But will always be seen as mine.”

“I am going to make you feel better about this.” You promise, rolling both of you over so you are on top. He sighs as you press his hands above his head and run your fingers softly down the inside of his arms.

“Seb-”

“-You won today, should at least celebrate this.” You smile. He drops his hands to you but on an instant you have them pressed back into the pillow. He sends you a small frown. “Are you going to keep them there or do I have to tie them?” You purr and, satisfyingly, watch Fernando’s pupils dilate in lust.

“T-Tie?” He swallows as you slide back down his body, lifting his shirt and kissing across his navel. His back arches slightly at your soft touch and you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I won’t have to if you’re good.” You mutter, eyes still locked to his as you pull down the elastic of his boxers. You watch his Adam’s apple bounce as he swallows in anticipation, already tenting the loose material of his underwear.

“Do not want to be good.” He whispers down at you, sitting up and attacking your lips with his own. You are caught out by his sudden abruptness but you have soon got yourself back under control and you tread your fingers into his hair, fighting back with just as much passion. It reminds you of when you are fighting on track. Against each other when you are desperate to win, desperate to show him you are the best, that the six-year age gap means nothing in terms of superiority. You pin him back down on the bed, taking a moment reveal in gusto at the defile image below you. He is panting hard with swollen lips and blown dark, big eyes. You rub your hips down on him and absorb his cry of pleasure before stealing his lips again, roaming his mouth with your tongue.

“Don’t be good then.” You kiss across his face as you let your hands fall away from his wrists. He looks up at then to see your paddock pass and his bounding him to the headboard. After a few tugs it’s clear you have done a good job and you set about retracing your steps, running your fingers sparsely down his arms before kissing across his torso, sucking his right nipple into your mouth. His response seems to be magnified now he is strapped exactly where you want him and as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive ball of nerves his moans fill your head, sending it straight to your groin. “That’s better.” You smile as you pull his boxers down his legs, freeing his cock that rests up against his stomach. “I didn’t know you had such a kinky side, Fernando.” He whimpers as you blow a mouthful of air across his damp tip, his feet kicking out across the bed. You crawl above him, keeping you hips inches apart as you place a gentle kiss on his lips. “So what do you want, Race Winner.”

“Y-you. Just you.” He breathes, trying to reach for you and pull you closer. You let his hands reach for you before gifting him a soft chuckle and pressing your lips to his, letting him dominate you only for the briefest of moments.

“And this is all for you, Nano.” You kiss down his stomach. “You won. You deserve everything that brings.” As you suck him into your mouth you hear him mutter one, beautiful thing as his head drops back against the pillow:

“Joder…”


End file.
